Obstacles
by Caruncle
Summary: Post ep 10- Don & Sloan with mentions of Will/Mac


Hey guys, so I started a Will/Mac fic ('The conference') and as much as I love Will/Mac I also love DON&SLOAN! And at present they seem painfully under represented so I figured I'd throw in my two cents. This has the potential to become multi chapter or I might leave it as one shot, I'm not quite sure yet as I'm really busy at the moment. But I hope you enjoy it anyway, reviews are always appreciated. Set post ep 10 (so contains spoilers). Thanks for reading.

I don't own the characters, Mr Sorkin does, I'm just playing and I'll put them back when I'm done…

**Obstacles & Admissions**

Sloan still couldn't quite believe she'd told him. God it turns out those plastics at school had been right after all, she really was 'socially inept'. Who in their right mind tells a guy who's just announced he's moving in with another girl that they like him? She should have just stuck to the line about men being intimidated by her intelligence- it was a great line and it was true, well it was sort of true and it's what her father had told her when she'd told him Andrew had cheated four days before the wedding and it had made her feel better then so she'd just kind of stuck with it. But when Don called her up on it she'd just crumbled, God, what had happened to her?

She really had thought she was leaving, hadn't she? Without Will, Mac would have just switched off and Rhys would have taken over again- she was leaving for those reasons. It had nothing to do with Don and her staying had absolutely nothing to do with him telling her to stay- she had chosen to stay because Will had come back and Mac was her friend and she owed it to Charlie for giving her another chance, see it really had nothing to do with Don, absolutely nothing.

She looked over the newsroom; most people were picking up their coats. Mac and Will were still in their respective offices. She wondered when they'd just realise that it could be fixed so damn easily by one of them just swallowing their pride and walking over and kissing the other. They had no obstacles, well apart from Will and his damn 'forgiveness' and that was just some kind of figurative shit. She had an actual person in her way, a physical entity- that damn 'wholesome, mid-western girl'.

But it didn't matter anyway; the obstacles were irrelevant because she was shutting the 'Don door'. She had to, in fact she'd do it now 'bye bye Donald, enjoy your 2.4 kids and white picket fence'. She wasn't bitter, not at all, who wanted a white picket fence? Not her, she was a career woman, an economist- she didn't have time for such trivial thoughts.

But then he walked into the newsroom and she could feel her face getting warmer. If this was going to happen every time he came within a ten metres maybe she still should leave? Or at least buy thicker foundation… but she liked her foundation- so leaving seemed sensible. Leaving also meant more money, and more money would be good because more money meant more shoes and shoes were always good. But she knew as everyone else did, as well as he had, that despite the beautiful Louboutins she could be buying right now, she wasn't going anywhere.

She stared down at the empty jotter on her desk in the hope she'd look convincingly busy enough that he wouldn't bother her. Not that he'd come over anyway, after all earlier today she'd told him not to look her in the eye ever again, no, with a speech like that he probably wouldn't be bothering her for some time- which was totally a good thing, it was.

But as she allowed her gaze to leave her desk she watched as he held out Maggie's coat and once she'd put it on (she'd got her arm stuck and looked a bit moronic- and it had made Sloan happier than it should have done) he put draped his arm around her shoulders. He was convincing- she'd give him that

But no! God she had to get this out of her head, it wasn't healthy. As Mac would say 'look at the facts'- the facts were she'd told Don she liked him, he'd told her he wanted to commit to Maggie and asked her to move in with him. The facts, if it were a news story that is what Will would report. So that's the end of it, time to get out of seventh grade and stop crushing on the cool guys. Be an economist, that's what you're supposed to be.

It was four hours later and she was in a cab on the way home. She'd been for cocktails with Mac, where, as per usual Mac has insisted on analysing Will's every move and what it may or may not have meant. To be fair, the voicemail thing was actually quite interesting even though she knew as well as Mac did what that voicemail had said, but Jesus, those two needed their heads banging together. She hadn't told Mac about Don. She was never telling anyone about Don, the more she thought about it the more she cringed 'because you never asked me out' Oh God, it was just horrible, so cheesy, so eurgh. She felt her blackberry vibrate in her pocket, what else had Mac forgotten to tell her now?

But it wasn't from Mac, it was from Don.

'I know I'm not supposed to be looking you in the eye, but I am really am happy you're staying. Have a good weekend, Dx'

Well what the hell was that supposed to mean?! God she wished she'd spent less time calculators at school- maybe then she'd be better at this stuff. She knew this would be prime Mac territory, she was good at this stuff- she'd analyse the hell out of this. Why was he glad she'd stayed? Was he just saying that to bridge the awkwardness? And why was he texting her past midnight when he was supposed be at home with Maggie?

Should she reply? There wasn't a question in the text and so it didn't really call for it did it? But she wanted to reply, she wanted to tell him she was glad she was staying too and that actually he'd had more of a bearing on her decision than he should have done and that he shouldn't be texting her because it just made it harder. But instead of even considering how to eloquently put that into text she locked her phone and sensibly put it back in her pocket because for now, that would have to do.

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It was Saturday afternoon and Maggie had decided they were going furniture shopping- he had no clue why, his, or their (still sounds weird), apartment was small and already more than fully furnished, but she wanted a new coffee table so they were going to find one.

As they walked mindlessly round the maze that was Ikea he couldn't help but feel content, this was what life was supposed to be like. Here he was, finally grown up, walking round a furniture store with the woman he was moving in with, fitting in with all the other couples who looked genuinely enthralled about the prospect of a new closet. Maggie was really in to it, she'd already had her little pencil out numerous times to scribble down the codes, and she really seemed to care. It was kind of cute and he appreciated it, they could have a home together. This was the right thing to do, and he wasn't just doing it because he felt he should, Sloan had been wrong-he wanted this, he really did.

But as he got further round he felt his feet start to drag and as he looked round to see if everyone else was feeling the same. No, turned out, just like Maggie, they were loving life choosing furniture too. She had gathered second wind when they'd got to the kitchen section and was currently eyeing up different chopping boards. Did this type of thing really make her happy? She turned around, grinning ear to ear with a chopping board in the shape of a rabbit, 'How cute is this?' He felt his face curl up into a well-practiced smile. Did she know he wasn't genuinely ecstatic about the prospect of the chopping board? Or was his act convincing her?

As they got round to the bathrooms he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He got a bit worried every time it did when he was off work, he had had to dash to the office for 'breaking news' one to many times recently. But it wasn't a news story, it was just Sloan.

'Well you know got to maintain my 42%, having a good weekend? S x' He was glad it wasn't awkward. He had a lot of time for Sloan, who wouldn't? She was so dry and funny with it and the most intelligent woman he'd ever met, but she had this edge and he liked it. Plus, he hadn't met many women who had absolutely no problem turning round and telling people where to go and he liked that, you didn't cross Sloan, no, you respected Sloan, and he did, he really did.

When she'd told him that she liked him he literately didn't know what to do with himself. How could someone like Sloan like someone like him? Especially as she'd seen live and in action replay how badly he'd treated Maggie, she'd even known about the other women and she still wasn't put off? She really wasn't very good at this kind of thing. Sloan deserved someone better, an actual good guy.

Sloan was right though, he'd spent his teenage years being told men were bad by pretty much every member of his female family. His dad had walked out when Don was twelve leaving his mum and two sisters in the lurch so men weren't exactly popular in his household. His maternal grandmother had sat him down at the age of fifteen and told him to be careful- he had bad genes she'd said, she'd told him to be careful and not let those genes break girls hearts. 'Don't let your mother down Donald, she so wants you to be a good boy,' and because Don loved his mother he tried to be. His mum loved Maggie, she'd told him never to let her go, to look after her because they were just perfect together, but as he looked over at the girl who was generally vexed over which shower curtain to go for he didn't know that they were. He wasn't so sure that he wasn't more suited to the person who'd just grab the first shower curtain on the pile because he imagined ducks or frogs wouldn't matter to Sloan, he imagined her only agenda was not getting water all over the bathroom floor, just like his.

He took out is phone and replied to her message. He told her he was in Ikea and that he was surprised at the range of bath mats. She replied that she didn't own at bathmat because she wasn't over the age of 80 but whatever floated his boat. He replied that he wasn't intending on buying one, because as she said, he wasn't over the age of 80, but a young man who was quite capable of keeping his balance in the shower. She replied that that was good and she would tell the ACN engineers to cancel the stair-lift she'd just emailed and asked them to put in for him. He couldn't help but laugh at the last text as he put his phone away just as Maggie was walking back over to him with the shopping trolley full to the brim with pointless goods.

'What you smiling at?'

'Nothing. Only you could come to Ikea for a coffee table and leave with all this'

'Oh, do you think it's too much? I could put it back if you want?' She looked so genuinely worried, he didn't mean it like that, he didn't really mean anything at all, it was just a comment.

'Of course it's fine, I want you to feel at home,'

'You sure?'

'Yes, but I do think we should go and pay before you realise that I, I mean we, have a terrace you haven't accounted for,'

As they were unloading the items at the till Don saw that she'd decided on ducks for the shower curtain and yep, there it was, the matching bath mat, complete with ducklings. He stared at it,

'Do we really need a bathmat?' She shook her head and smiled.

'Honey- you just put a two hundred dollar mirror on the conveyor belt and you're worried about an eight dollar bath mat?! Besides I noticed you didn't have one,' When he said nothing she started to look a bit more worried.

'I just don't think we need it,' God, don't be an arse, just let her have the damn bath mat, it's not like Sloan will ever see it and why did it matter what Sloan thought? Having a bathmat was practical, Maggie was right. Maggie was sensible; Maggie didn't tell guys that she liked them on a whim, Maggie didn't yell at Charlie or flirt with teenage boys on planes to get their seat. Maggie was what he wanted, what would make his mother proud. So of course she could have the bath mat because he wasn't going to let her down, he wasn't his father, he was the good guy and the good guy got the good girl- that's how every story always goes.

'Don?' He'd zoned out, Maggie was stood in-front of him still holding it in her hands, 'am I putting this back?' She looked so sweet, so hopeful.

'Let's get the bath mat; it'll look great with the shower curtain,' She smiled at him and it made him feel good. This was good. This was right. This was how it was supposed it be…Wasn't it?


End file.
